Orthodoxy
by Feather Ice
Summary: Kicking Romulan butt had been awesome and wresting captaincy from Starfleet had been AWESOME. Getting confined to the ship by a well-meaning subordinate? Not quite as awesome. Captain Kirk refuses to stand for it.


Points of Interest: It's actually kind of funny.

Orthodoxy

From the moment he sat down in the captain's chair after tricking/provoking a vastly more qualified Vulcan genius out of it, people knew that Jim was not 'normal'. Sulu knew when the stowaway leapt off of a weapon of mass destruction hovering high over a planet that would be so dead in a few minutes that their flattened remains would have no chance of being recovered, in a reckless attempt to save his life. McCoy knew because he'd been putting up with Jim's 'shaken, spun, and pulverized, not stirred' brand of insanity for the past three years. For everyone else, it had come as a bit of a shock. After Starfleet's infamous brawler completely undermined the authority of their leader in a display of chillingly cold logic, he turned around and went on a crazy assault/rescue mission/ suicide run entirely vindicated by emotion and intuition. Against a giant deathship from the future led by madmen. And then he _won_.

About then, people began to recognize how different he was.

For one thing, he never backed down. He just didn't seem to have the right synapses for it. Even if he was locked thousands of miles beneath the ground under heavy guard, on a fully Klingon planet, chained up, sedated, and with nothing more than a loincloth, there would still be no chance of his giving up. There were times when James Kirk seemed like the next hero of the ages because of his fierce bravery and determination to do the right thing. And then he would _ruin_ it with grating arrogance, licentious skirt-chasing, impulsive idiocy, and what seemed to be a personal motivation of annoying anyone he came into contact with. Even then, just when people started to come to terms with his being a prick (it wasn't like there was a shortage of _those_ in Starfleet), he would do something truly decent—and then spend the next few days trying to pretend he hadn't.

So basically, the only thing people could agree on was that he was bat shit crazy—that one was universal—and that he was not at all normal.

Despite these conclusions, those who knew him still made the mistake of applying certain standards to him. For instance, people generally assumed he enjoyed shore leave (Bones had to sedate him for the first one) and that he hit on all women who crossed his past (he did leave his officers alone, although he made an exception for Uhura or anyone willing to help him dodge shore leave). They also assumed that he would enjoy being captain. After all, who wouldn't? It was _captaincy_. Before he'd even graduated from the academy too—captaincy. Nothing to sneeze at.

Jim sort of hated it.

Oh, sure, it was nice being able to tell people what to do and all. And he really liked being up on the bridge, in the middle of everything (it helped that all the officers on the bridge could hold their own against him and reasonably tell him to shove it—he, in his perverse manner, actually liked that). There was the _Enterprise_ itself, which Jim shared Scotty's devotion towards, although for different reasons. Plus the chair. There was something about the chair. Bones called it an unhealthy obsession. Jim called it true love. And even though he viewed dressing up and being paraded as The Brave Young Captain Kirk as a special form of torture incurred by blowing the _Galileo_ up ONE LITTLE TIME, AND IT WAS EMPTY!, formally events were blessedly few and far between. He could handle the stupid dress uniform that made him look like a stupidly decorated praying mantis and the stupid galas and the stupid dignitaries he wanted to punch right in the stupid faces.

But the boredom, dear God, the boredom! Ever since he'd first sat in that chair it seemed like _that was all he ever did_! The people of Earth had just begun to explore the farthest reaches of space, finding new and **disgusting** and awesome life, kicking ass and taking names and what was Jim Kirk doing?

Sitting there!

Had Jim known, he'd never have gone into command. Better an expendable, pissed-upon grunt than a lump on a seat. McCoy saw more action than him for crying out loud! To Jim, such a way of life was entirely inconceivable, no matter how important other people said it was. Maybe it worked for others, for people for whom the rank was enough, but to Jim, captaincy had become a slow death. With a great chair. But a slow death none the less.

It all started a few weeks ago, with the Metalegon planet. It was the first real mission they'd had (it neither being a life or death crisis with all klaxons blaring nor another stupid 'let's babysit the ambassador for the next few days' assignment), Jim had requested an away team and gone bounding into the transporter room, grinning and fidgeting impatiently as he waited. Moments later the detail filed in, including, he was happy to see, Spock. He liked Spock, even if the feeling wasn't mutual. Liking Spock meant being around Spock, e.i., annoying Spock, which was far more rewarding than with anyone else. Spock's veneer of Vulcan calm flickered slightly with what Kirk called the 'Kirk-face', and what Spock referred to as a 'predilection for wishing he was somewhere else', when he wasn't busily denying its existence. Kirk's grin widened.

"Captain," Spock greeted.

Far before he had any complaints towards captaincy, the formality was already getting to Jim. He was sick of being accosted for salutes and performances of how his crew could leap ramrod straight at a moment's notice. It was one thing for everyone to obey his decisions when it mattered, but the ego-stroking portion of his command was over. Kirk preferred everyone be relaxed and quit reminding him, dammit, because he didn't feel much like a captain, and already had been stared at oddly (and more than once) for looking around in genuine confusion to see who was being addressed. What he didn't realize was that the crew used formality as a tool to wrap their heads around the concept that he was a figure of authority. What _they_ didn't realize was that Kirk used informality to pretend he wasn't. Anyway, he'd tried to bludgeon all but the occasional 'sir' out of everyone, but Spock was stubborn.

"Jim," said Jim.

"Captain," Spock repeated firmly and Jim glared just a little. "What are you doing here?"

The grin returned in all its white-toothed brilliance. "Beaming down, if you'll get your asses over here."

Spock blinked, looking slightly puzzled, the height of Vulcan physiognomy. "Do you think that wise, Captain?"

"What's wrong with the landing party?" Kirk demanded, sure that his crew was being insulted, and about to get very insulted on their behalf. He needn't have bothered. Spock cleared his throat lightly, and the landing party sort of shuffled their feet and coughed. Scotty became suddenly very interested in the transporter console, poking at lots of buttons that made interesting sounds. Kirk looked between them all, suspicious and a little annoyed because he wanted to get going. It dawned on him just before it got really awkward. "_What_?" He growled indignantly. "Me?!"

Spock cleared his throat again, and Kirk wondered if it was a nervous habit. Or perhaps a reaction to mounting levels of testosterone in their about-to-be pissing contest. "You are the captain of the _Enterprise_," he said with infuriating calm. "The planet's inhabitants are known to be dangerous. If altercations were to occur, it is imperative that you not be lost."

"Wha…?" Kirk's eyebrows rose. "I'm not going to jump in front of any rampaging lava monsters, if that's what you're worried about." He cracked another grin, but no one answered it. "C'mon, it's not like I'm going to get myself _shot_."

"With all due respect, you do not know this, Captain." Spock did indeed look respectful. That was what made it so genuinely infuriating. He thought he was doing the right thing! He actually thought Kirk would be dumb enough to do—well, whatever he was worried Kirk would do. And maybe Kirk was. But at least he'd have fun doing it. "I must ask that you remain behind."

"Er." Kirk felt both flattered and incredibly put upon. He struggled to compromise. "Uh, well, I could stay back a little bit. Keep my head down and that kind of thing…"

"I fear it would not be sufficient." Kirk's teeth gritted as Spock repeated his request. Disappointment quickly changed into obstinacy and rage, though, and Kirk's voice rose to ring through the room.

"Tough!" He exclaimed, unable to believe his ears. Their first real mission, his first new world, the gratification of all that he'd scraped and struggled for in the past three years, and they were telling him to stay behind?! Spock looked surprised by his outburst and everyone else just looked varying degrees of guilty or disapproving. Jim fixed them all with a rather bloodthirsty look. "I'm not going to sit back here, twiddling my thumbs! Either you come with me and we beam down together and try not to get shot **together**, or I beam down by myself! But either way, I'm beaming down!"

Spock stood up very, very straight and looked him dead in the eye with his own cool expression. "Is that an order, Captain?"

And Kirk paused, his fatal undoing. The logical half of his brain seized the recess and he realized how stupid he was being. Spock was right—he'd seen firsthand how well as ship did without its captain. And getting shot wasn't exactly on his list of things to do. Plus, it was just one lousy mission, and the inhabitants were pretty renowned for being glorious douches… It wouldn't kill him to sit this one out, and he could make up for it by buzzing them on their communicators every five minutes. And possibly sabotaging Spock's science instruments if they took too long.

Kirk glared helplessly at Spock. "It is not logical," the Vulcan said softly, and Kirk remembered, with a rush of even worse-timed guilt, how he had won his own captaincy. And even though he had no basis to even speculate on this, he suddenly had the horrible thought of _what if Spock uses this as a chance to get me back? What if he takes everything away because I got too worked up over one mission…?_ And really, it was less a fear of Spock doing this and more the knowledge that he could and that Kirk had already done it, and that Kirk was kind of a jackass, that made him deflate.

"No," he muttered, stepping off the transporter and feeling like he'd just ripped himself in half. The half he liked better was on the transporter, shouting at him to get back on, but the new 'I am not six years old' half kept walking away. He sighed, sagging melodramatically against Scotty's console and refusing to move. "I guess not." If anyone looked relieved at that, he didn't bother to notice. He stared furiously at the coordinates, determined not to look up. "Carry on."

They did. They got on the transporter, went through the motions, and off they went, beamed into the vastness of space and the next adventure. Kirk stood, peering at the wall over Scotty's shoulder the whole time, refusing to look at anyone. And once they were gone, Kirk absolutely hated himself and sulked the whole way back to the bridge.

Being mature sucked.

And that was the story of how after rescuing Admiral Pike, defeating a Romulan war machine from the future, saving the Earth, and making it all the way home again, crew (mostly) intact, Captain Kirk became made of glass and was forbidden by Nursemaid Spock to leave his chair. The next mission was too dangerous, and so was the next, and the next, and even the one after that, which Kirk suspected to be a glorified shore leave. While Spock and his evil minions were out enjoying themselves, Kirk was shut away on the bridge, snapping at anyone within reach and trying to find a way to weasel out of being captain long enough to have some fun. Soon enough he'd come to loathe the job. The only time he ever got in on the action was when the Enterprise itself was attacked. It was fantastically depressing that those were the only moments he enjoyed himself, when his entire crew and wonderful ship were put into jeopardy.

He _really_ hated being captain.

He got annoyed with himself for taking it out on the bridge crew every time there was a mission to carry out, and began to spend his time down in sick bay instead, pleading headache or whatever else came to mind. McCoy put up with it because he liked Jim and because a guilty captain made a very good secretary, and everyone else was too relieved he was gone to complain. Jim kind of wished they would. Then he could get fired and go back to grunt work and cheerfully undermine all of Spock's orders. Because even Delta Vega was preferable to this.

"Bones, can you enter a formal complaint against me?" Jim asked one day, obediently sorting through the syringes he'd been told to organize.

"No," replied McCoy automatically to Jim's questioning tone, and then looked up sharply. "I mean, what? A complaint? …Why?"

"So I don't have to be captain anymore," Kirk replied with feeling, breaking one of the syringes and quickly hiding it with the other things of McCoy's he had broken, under the chair cushion.

McCoy somehow had yet to figure out where his inventory was running off to.

"Uh… Huh." McCoy gave him a very calculating look. "Hey Jim, have you considered taking a shore leave? It's kind of unorthodox for the time we've been aboard, but you're new at this, and I'm sure everyone will understand…"

"I hate shore leave and DO NOT," Jim boomed, scowling. "Get any closer to those hypos. I'm fine, Bones. Being captain just sucks."

"_Most_ people would appreciate being pulled out of the line of fire." Of course McCoy knew what was going on. There was only so long a person could be oblivious to Jim's bouts of depression whenever a landing party was sent down. And he didn't like Spock **that** much, at least, Good God, McCoy sure hoped not. A trace of sympathy wormed its way into McCoy's cynical tones. "…Guess it must be hell on earth for you."

Kirk said nothing, just sighed, and leaned his head against the counter. McCoy patted his back. "You're a good captain, you know. You've done a lot of things most people can only dream of. It would be a shame to lose a captain like you for something as trivial as this." All of this was said gruffly, and very fast, illuminating McCoy's deep loathing for personal empathies and his deeper affection for Kirk. Kirk, for his part, sighed again.

"It's not trivial to me," he said, and McCoy had to wince at the resentment in that tone. He patted McCoy on the arm as if to say 'it's not your fault'. "Thanks, though."

There wasn't much to be said to that.

McCoy had the decency to let it go, but Jim found that he could not. Plus, he kept trying to rationalize it to himself in words like 'it's what all the cadets dream about; how bad can it be?' or 'it's just a little different—try to adjust and it'll be fine'. James Kirk did not _rationalize_. James Kirk ran in, all guns blazing, and did what he _pleased_. It was what made being James Kirk worthwhile!

But Spock was still right and the one time Kirk had tried to protest that he wasn't that indispensible and really, Spock would make a fine captain, and did he want his position back? it had gotten him nowhere and McCoy mysteriously made him run through a full physical a few hours later. He might not like being captain, but he could see that his staying put was for the good of the _Enterprise_. And he loved the _Enterprise_ and everyone aboard her, so he was willing to try. Surely he could make a few allowances for his ship—and he was pleased to note that the mere mention of 'his ship' was still enough to send delicious tingles right through his gut.

Surely, just once, it wouldn't kill him to be normal?

He could just _make_ himself into what they needed.

So he tried to compromise. And it did not go well.

As much as he liked his chair, he was kind of going stir-crazy in it, so he thought up reasons to get out of it. Captain was kind of a useless job unless there was an emergency, and there was a lot of non-emergency time he just spent sitting around on his butt and thinking of ways to harass those he cared about most. Seriously. Aside from being all inexpendible and shit, what did the captain even _do_? Thus far the job consisted of filling out a never-ending supply of paperwork and barking commands in emergencies that he was pretty sure anyone with a brain could figure out and do without being told so.

Thus, instead of ambiguously captaining, Kirk found numerous projects he could sneak off to do. He worked with the computers and engineering mainly, although he did go and assist with McCoy when he was feeling particularly masochistic. He enjoyed feeling useful and sticking it to the members of his crew who expected the captain to be helpless at anything except running his mouth. Unfortunately, he also interrupted the usual going-ons wherever he went, what with the weird compulsion of his crew to salute and fall suddenly silent. He also kept taking over other people's jobs. Plus, since he wasn't around all the time, he missed certain orders and generally got in the way whenever he _was_ around.

Scotty was nice about it. "Aren't ya needed on the Bridge, Capt'n? I thought I saw the mission updates bein' sent up there…"

McCoy was not. "Dammit Jim, quit moping around like a puppy! You're depressing my patients! Either go on a mission or go up to the Bridge, but either way, GO!"

Spock was effectively passively aggressive. "Captain, while you were on break, you have accumulated sixteen different reports to sign as well as the mission update. Might I suggest your breaks be taken at more opportune moments?"

Jim was quickly losing hope of any way to preserve his sanity.

"Did something happen between you and Spock?" Uhura asked very bluntly at breakfast, sitting across from him with a grim expression.

"Hi, Uhura, nice to see you too," Jim greeted irritably, poking at the result of a replicator set on 'random'. It was so sad that this was where he got his kicks from. "Are you having a nice day? Do you need a shoulder to cry on? I've been in love with you since I was twelve and all that, but I guess—"

"Save it," she retorted, although the corners of her scowl fought laughter. "Just answer the question."

"Not really," Jim shrugged, feeling too sorry for himself to properly bug Uhura. "Same old, same old. I want to advance, he wants to retreat, and we argue. Why?"

"You're being so incredibly weird," she informed him. His jaw dropped a little.

"Gee, thanks."

"Seriously." Her grave expression had returned, and it looked startlingly like Kirk's first officer. "You're avoiding him, first of all. And the bridge. And most everyone on the bridge. And you're really, really touchy. You yell at anyone for anything. Like that whole thing with Chekov."

"I thought he said whore!" Kirk cried loudly, throwing his hands in the air. Their fellow diners ignored this, because weirder things happened in the mess hall, and frequently.

Uhura glared at him. "Chekov? Really, Kirk? _Chekov_?"

Kirk sighed, and resumed poking his food. "My bad, alright? I apologized."

"On top of all that, whenever you're not being weird, you're being weirder." Kirk actually looked up at that one, possibly to see if Uhura had lost her mind. She hadn't, although she was blushing very slightly. "If you're not being cranky—"

"Hey—"

"—then you're being all pathetic like you are right now." She gave him a meaningful look and the poking of the food ceased. "And you're just downright **bizarre** when Spock's gone, so. Talk."

"It's not really that important," Kirk muttered, slumping down further in his seat in a way that made Uhura growl with frustration.

"I can decide whether or not it's important, thank you very much—I'm a woman, not a tribble—and I can ALSO decide which one of you I'll beat up for it. So! You were saying?"

"You'd beat up Spock for me?" Kirk's eyes widened with feigned innocence and he clasped her hand. "The ultimate act of love! We're made for each other!"

Uhura snatched her hand back, eyes narrowing. "Either you can be serious for five seconds, or I'm leaving." She meant it, too. Kirk had noticed, and momentarily set aside his attempts to pick up the lieutenant. He relayed his tragic tale, mostly because it was an excuse not to go up to the bridge. By the conclusion, Uhura did not look very impressed. "You really are so weird," she declared, getting up with her empty tray. "If you have a problem with that, _just tell him_."

Now that was something that had never, in all his plots and schemes, occurred to him. First of all because he thought it was pretty obvious, but Vulcan's didn't have the best track record when it came to personal insights, so maybe he thought Kirk was being the quintessential illogical human. So assuming that Spock wasn't doing this to watch him squirm, it still seemed like a dumb idea, because if Spock couldn't figure it out, he probably wouldn't be able to get it either. And even then, Kirk knew it wouldn't matter because Spock was far more concerned with regulations than Kirk's increasing misery. Talking to Spock would do no good whatsoever, and Kirk had already made his point to everyone else within earshot. There was no higher authority. Kirk was the higher authority, except that being the higher authority made it so he had no authority on the subject whatsoever. He sighed, slumping to his feet and preparing to trudge his way to work.

And then it hit him like a Kingon battle cruiser.

He was James frickin' 'to hell with the rules' Kirk. He never hesitated and never chickened out. And he never let anything stop him, be it Starfleet Command or the Klingon armada. He was the ultimate badass and he _knew_ it. And James Kirk would never let anyone tell him to stay behind for his safety, of all things, not even if it was James Kirk doing the ordering. Being the _captain_ wasn't the problem here. Forgetting to be_ Jim Kirk_ was.

Dropping the food tray to the ground with a clang, Kirk marched straight to the transporter room, where, by massive coincidence, Spock and a small contingent were already preparing to beam down. They were all pretty surprised when Kirk came storming in—he usually avoided seeing them off like the plague—and even more surprised when he bodily lifted one of the Ensigns off the transporter and took his place.

"Captain—" Spock began in a warning tone, brow creased with consternation. "I—"

"No," Kirk said bluntly. "I am coming. That's final." The ensign was gaping at him. Everyone else was just staring. Spock's frown deepened.

"Please remember your position," the Vulcan protested. "You are the captain. You are needed here."

Kirk made a show of considering this before he voiced what had been on his mind since the first mission when he had made the mistake of backing down. "Yeah—I don't care."

Spock's indifference was starting to wear around the edges. One of the many privileges Jim exclusively enjoyed. "This is illogical. As captain of this ship, it would be highly unorthodox for you to endanger yourself—"

"Correction: I'm Captain Kirk," Kirk broke in, earning himself several confused looks. "Not 'Captain'. Captain _Kirk_. And I am going on this mission because that is what I will do and I," his voice rose to talk over Spock, who had started to protest again, "**will continue to do so, is that clear?!** I am NOT like other captains in your history records, and if that bothers you—or any of you—I could care _less_. You shouldn't have promoted _me_, if you didn't want _me_ as captain. OK?" He cast a ferocious grin around the room, showing a good deal more teeth than necessary. "Or do you think you can't handle the ship _yourself_, Mr. Spock?"

The Vulcan's eyes hardened. "I do not doubt my own ability."

"Gotcha. Glad that's settled," Kirk smiled cheerfully, stretching his neck out nonchalantly as he shooed the ensign away. "Right. Beam us down, Scotty."

"Aye," the engineer said, eyes twinkling at something or another—Spock getting dressed down, Kirk returning to his usual, lovable self, the prospect of Engineering freed of Captain Kirk's meddling—and did just that. Casting one last, self-satisfied grin at Spock, who still looked like he'd swallowed a large, toxic lemon, although Kirk thought he saw a bit of respect deep in that stoic visage, Kirk threw back his head and let the transporter work its magic. Anxiety, fear, and excitement swirled dangerously through him, making every molecule of his being all but sing. As he faded away every single thing in his universe snapped back into alignment and everything was, for one moment, completely and utterly **right**.

The crew was right.

Screw orthodoxy.


End file.
